Like the Fire in My Blood
by Katria Bloom
Summary: Harry Potter owns a club. Draco Malfoy is a drag queen that works there.


A slender, glitter-dusted arm slipped around Harry's waist from behind, tugging him off his barstool. "Why Mr. Potter, why aren't you mingling with your loyal customers?" Harry was led in a swaying dance for a few steps as he turned around in the grasp of his star performer, who was surrounded by scantily-clad boys caked with glitter and glowing with sweat and life and dance. All eyes were on the statuesque, pale drag queen with smoky painted eyes, highly-accentuated cheekbones, and shimmering blood-red lips.

"The only one here worth mingling with is you, DraGGen darling," Harry called back in reply, leaning forward to land an air peck on her cheeks. Harry was assaulted by the scent of heady anise and heated skin and she released his waist to clutch a hand over her heart and fan herself, fluttering obscenely large false eyelashes.

"Why sir, you know how to make a girl blush," DraGGen crooned, patting her sleek blonde hair before dragging a well-dressed man from behind her. The thighs of the man's black trousers, Harry noticed, were sparking with glitter. "Now now, I've got a man here who is most definitely worth mingling with, and he wants to have a little chat with you about opening up a new Griffin's Door in London."

"The West End could really do with a club like yours," the man yelled as the song changed, leaning forward to lay a hand on Harry's arm as he talked. "There's a market out there for you - and The Griffin's Door - and I would be more than willing to help fund any expansion you may have in mind."

Harry was speechless. Furthermore, he had been abandoned by DraGGen. He rifled through his pockets, drew out a crumpled business card, and passed it to the man. "Just call the office and I'll see if I can set up a meeting," Harry replied, relieved with DraGGen, all lean, pale legs and black satin, took the stage.

The businessman disappeared into the screaming, clapping crowd as a new song blared and DraGGen began, working the crowd just like she did every Friday night. And just like every Friday night, Harry got lost in the glitter and the spectacle along with the crowd.

-

Harry's ears continued to ring long after the music stopped and the lights came back on. He was counting and logging the money in the till while the bartenders and servers swept up the confetti and glitter covering the stage and floor.

"We have a shipment of liquor coming tomorrow, don't we Seamus?" Harry asked, not looking up from the ledger of the night's earnings.

Seamus came out of the storage room with a case of vodka, his face screwed up in concentration. "Yeah, I'm meeting the guy at three. Leave a cheque and I'll take care of it."

Harry started to thank Seamus but the loud squeak of the heavy metal door to the left of the stage echoed through the empty club. No one looked up from their cleaning as Draco slipped past, his long blond hair pulled into a loose gather at the base of his neck.

"Potter, would it be alright if I got my cheque a couple of days early this week?" Draco asked before Harry had fully registered Draco was even talking to him.

Harry sputtered, Draco raised his eyebrows, and Harry noticed a stray fleck of glitter by Draco's clear grey eye. "Yeah - yeah, of course. Do you need more? Take what you need; I know you're good for it."

Draco cleared his throat and let one of his slender hands rest on his hip. "I just need what I earned."

"Of course. I didn't mean…" Harry stammered, finally giving up trying to talk and going to get Draco's pay cheque. Draco took it from him with a muttered 'thanks'. He started to leave, but Harry cleared his throat and with a poorly-concealed eye roll Draco turned back to him. "I…I was thinking that…well…" Harry finally sighed. "Good show tonight. See you next week?"

"Next week," Draco said with a curt nod, and left before Harry could stop him again.

Harry shook his head, finished his closing work and left the club, still thinking about the stray fleck of glitter on Draco's face. He was trying to figure out the most effective way to get rid of glitter, as it always seemed to cling to him for weeks and Draco caked himself with it every night and got rid of everything but a spare fleck. Maybe he should ask Draco, that is if he could form a coherent sentence.

"Hopeless," Seamus muttered to himself as he restocked the bar. Harry chose to ignore him.

-

"Harry, that tosser from London called again about opening a club," Seamus grumbled, snapping shut his mobile before leaning back in his chair. "He requests a lunch with you, said the lovely drag performer at Pride Night said you'd be available."

"I'm not," Harry sighed.

Seamus chuckled. "If I didn't know any better, I would think that Malfoy is trying to set you up, and not just with a business opportunity."

Harry stared down at his lunch, no longer hungry. "That or he was just trying to pawn an unwanted suitor off on me. She has a lot of those."

"She," Seamus echoed. "Bloody weird." Harry grunted, finished his beer, and frowned. "Oh come on Harry, you know it's weird, so don't even try to argue. Listen mate, if you don't want to open a new club we don't have to. It's all up to you; I'm for it either way."

"I'm still not sure," Harry replied. "I'll just have to think it over. It seems hard enough to keep up with just the one, you know?"

Seamus shrugged. "We'll manage either way. We'll just hire more people."

"And I'll have to talk to that tosser from London at some point. Maybe I should make Draco go with me, he's the one who got me into this mess."

Seamus ruffled his hair and chuckled. "DraGGen got you in this mess, not Draco. Not that you could take her, I think that would come off a little strong."

Harry couldn't hold back his snort of laughter.

-

In all his years of life, Harry could think of little that was more frustrating than Draco Malfoy. He felt he should be immune to Draco by now - Harry knew that the light touches and trilling laughter and smouldering gaze were all part of the act - but the was entranced along with the audience every night. DraGGen was a star, and Harry felt like nothing more than the vehicle.

"Why so glum, darling? You're missing out on your own party." Draco's eyes sparkled through DraGGen's makeup, and it only made Harry even more tired and intoxicated.

"Not feeling particularly social tonight," he replied and DraGGen smoothed down Harry's hair like a child, a long peacock feather from her boa tickling his ear.

"Poor love," DraGGen cooed, and Harry felt sick. "Want me to kiss it better?"

Harry knew his thoughts were reckless; that he wanted was something he could never have, so he didn't say anything. He was caught off guard by the quick brush of lips across his temple and he forgot to breathe for a glorious second. Before he could stop himself he reached out, his fingers finding a hipbone and pulling DraGGen closer.

"Why Mr. Potter, you must learn to separate business and pleasure," DraGGen chided, swinging her hip to knock away Harry's hand. "You can't have both, at least not at the same time." DraGGen's entourage chuckled politely, and all at once Harry realized he was much too pissed to handle this well. DraGGen's eyes were heavy when she said, "My public awaits. But you, Mr. Potter, are going to be right here when I return."

A disbelieving snort escaped Harry's lips before he could stop it. "I am?"

"You are. I'm not through with you yet." The tone made it quite clear that Draco was talking and not DraGGen. The edge was clear, and Harry felt his stomach drop.

DraGGen returned just as quickly as she had faded and she swished away, but Harry didn't notice. It was only a few minutes into the show when Harry made a break for his office, all too sure that there was not enough liquor in the world to help him now. Actually, it would only serve to make things so much worse.

So like any sane, rational person would do, Harry crawled under his desk, flung his arms over his eyes, and tried not to be sick. He was doing well until he heard the rhythmic clicking of advancing stiletto heels, and then a fresh wave of nausea hit.

"Fuck," Harry groaned, and his office door swung open. "Please be Seamus."

"You can run but you can't hide Potter," Draco grumbled, circling around to crouch near Harry's head, smoothing down his tight black skirt. "And I'm not Finnegan. Now, come with me."

Harry whimpered. "Why?"

Draco sighed and shifted. Harry could hear the soft hiss of his smooth skin as he brushed something away from his leg. "Because I'm taking you home. You're drunk."

"I know that," Harry replied, his tone petulant. Even still, he sat up. "I can find my way home on my own."

"I told you to stay where you were at the bar but you didn't. Please forgive me if I don't fucking believe you."

Harry didn't quite understand what his leaving the bar had to do with anything, but he kept his mouth shut. "You don't have to take me home."

Draco pursed his lips and stood, holding out a hand. "I really do. Come on, I want to change and take off my makeup before I leave."

"Why? Being a girl suits you," Harry said, and then promptly slapped himself. "I mean, you don't look ridiculous. Except for the glitter. I hate glitter. I'll stop talking any moment now."

Draco snorted and looped their arms together and led Harry a back way to the dressing rooms. In the heels, Draco was taller than him. And much, much prettier. "You wouldn't walk anywhere in full makeup and a skirt either; people are terribly vocal about their opinions on a bloke in a skirt. I'm not being a girl, you realize, just being a bloke in a skirt."

Harry's throat tightened as Draco pushed him down in a folding chair and crossed over to the small rack of mostly black clothes pushed against the wall. Harry watched as Draco efficiently toed off his shoes, slipped out of his skirt and well-tailored blazer, and tied his hair up. Harry couldn't help but notice the smooth line of his crotch, and he cleared his throat. "What is...?"

"It's called a gaffer," Draco said, cutting Harry's question off. "Special knickers to hide any embarrassing bumps. Terribly uncomfortable if you get a hard-on. Now stop staring at me."

Draco pulled off the gaffer and Harry finally did look away. Within seconds Draco was dressed in denims and a jumper, and was furiously scrubbing away his makeup. Harry must have fallen asleep, because Draco was shaking him awake after what seemed like no time. "Ready now?"

"Ready," Draco said, helping Harry to his feet. "Come on."

Harry must have fallen asleep again, because he woke up lying on an unfamiliar couch with an unfamiliar and rather hideous cat staring down at him after what must have been hours, as the sun was high in the sky. The cat was wrinkly and bald, and its ears were three times too big for its head. "Hello beast," Harry croaked, carefully petting the cat. It felt like a warm peach.

"Fluffy get off," Draco's voice snapped from somewhere behind the couch, and the cat meowed begrudgingly and jumped off of Harry. "Sorry about her, she has no manners."

Harry sat up with a considerable amount of effort. "Your bald cat is named Fluffy? How cruel."

"She was already named that when I got her," Draco said, handing Harry a steaming cup of tea that smelled suspiciously of brandy, not that Harry was complaining. "I didn't have the heart to change it; I wouldn't want her to have an identity crisis."

Harry took a long drink of the tea and looked around the rather sparse but clean flat. "This is where you live?"

Draco sat next to him on the couch, folding his legs underneath him. "This is where I live. You passed out again and I lived closer."

"Thank you."

Draco sort of half-shrugged.

Harry took another drink of his tea. "What do you think about the new club? What should I do? Do you think it's a good idea?"

Draco shrugged again. "Not up to me, it's up to you and Finnegan. I can't tell you what to do."

"You can if I ask you to!" Harry snapped. "I'm asking your opinion. You brought me the guy, so I thought that it was something you had talked to him about."

"I don't even know that man's name, he just found me and asked me about you," Draco replied, his tone clipped. "I didn't talk to him about anything."

"So you don't think I should do it, then?"

Draco let out an annoyed sigh. "I don't care! As long as I still have a job. It seems like a profitable step."

Harry finished his tea. This conversation wasn't going as planned. "I like what we have. I like..." he trailed off, and Fluffy jumped up in his lap. He scratched the strange cat, and pointedly didn't look at Draco. "Never mind. I just want you to know you have a say in the decisions we make. We wouldn't be what we are today if not for you."

"If not for DraGGen."

It was Harry's turn to be annoyed. "One in the same. DraGGen is you."

Draco pursed his lips and shrugged again.

"I was thinking that if we did another club, it should be yours. The DraGGen's Den. A purely drag club, not just on Friday nights. You'd have the run of the place. I mean, if it's what you wanted. It would mean more work, but..." Harry shrugged, patting Fluffy's not-so-fluffy head. "It was just a thought."

Draco was silent for a long time, and he finally stood up. "I'm really sorry Harry, but I've got tons of stuff I have to do today and it's nearly three in the afternoon already. And don't you have to be off to the club soon to do work or something?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry said quickly, placing Fluffy on the couch beside him to stand. "Thanks for last night."

Draco nodded once, his gaze unreadable.

Harry went straight back to the club, grateful that he had a shower and a spare change of clothes in his office. He was not grateful for the seven messages from the man from London. He deleted them all without listening.

-

"You look like cat sick."

Harry looked up from a fresh box of cocktail stirrers with a grimace. "Thanks Seamus, for that disgusting visual. And I had a bit of an adventure last night, so I'd appreciate some compassion."

"Adventure?" Seamus echoed, cracking open a box of crimson napkins.

Harry yawned. "Taken hostage by a drag queen. Did you know they wear special cock-blocking knickers?"

Seamus collapsed in a fit of laughter, and shook his head. "I can honestly say I didn't know that."

"Yeah, well, now you do," Harry said, breaking down the box and tossing it in the trash bin. Saturday night was Karaoke Night, and a small group of people were transforming the stage with all sorts of sound and light equipment. They still had an hour to go before the doors opened, but the equipment was nearly set up and ready for drunken renditions of Muggle and Wizard songs alike. Seamus was notorious for singing mournful renditions of anything not meant to be mournful.

"I really did miss something last night," Seamus said with a little shake of the head. "But the real question is if you were kidnapped against your will or because of it?"

"I was very, very drunk," Harry admitted, leaning against the bar. "And there may have been some inappropriate touching on my part."

"Hopeless."

"Shut up. I tried to escape afterward, but it didn't work. I was hunted down."

Seamus broke down his box and threw it out. "You aren't hard to find. Under your desk?"

Harry sneered.

"Harry, I need to talk to you." Harry stiffened and turned around. Draco was there and he was wearing a gauzy white shirt and crisp khaki trousers, and Harry wanted so very much to die.

"You don't work today," Harry said dumbly, and there was a long-suffering sigh from Seamus' general direction. "You don't karaoke."

"I thought I expressed why I am here with my previous statement," Draco said slowly, his chin lowered. "I need to talk to you. Can we go to your office?"

Harry swallowed thickly but nodded, following Draco. Even Draco's stride was different, but perhaps the heels had something to do with that. Harry fought the urge to crawl under his desk and instead leaned against the corner, watching as Draco pushed the office door closed. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

"I don't want a new club," Draco said without preamble. "I don't want a club. I like it here. I appreciate the thought, and it's an honour, but I don't want it."

"Okay," Harry said with a careful nod. "I just thought..."

"You should stop doing that." Draco crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath. "I think...I think you're confused. You like DraGGen, and I understand that, but..."

"No! I mean, I like DraGGen alright I guess, but that's not..." Harry grit his teeth and wanted to hit something. "Fuck it all, this fucking..." He took a deep breath and held it. "This is weird."

"Just a bloke in a dress," Draco said with a vague little wave. "Not really all that weird."

"But it is! It's weird because I like DraGGen because she's just you, you in a dress and acting like a bitch." Harry chuckled a bit. "You act like I always thought you really acted, and it's weird that it isn't really you. Just an act. You're one hell of a method actor. Actress. Whatever."

Draco furrowed his brow. "That made sense, I think."

Harry steeled himself. "The thing is...the thing is I like you, dress or no. I like you coated in stupid glitter or wearing weird knickers or just plain old trousers. I like looking at you and seeing something I've never seen before."

Harry couldn't look up from his hands, he was too scared. He felt the warmth of Draco's body in front of him and smelled anise, and _god_ the brush of lips against his jaw. He was hard instantly, and he could feel Draco's erection against his leg. Draco kissed down his neck, peeling away Harry's shirt as he kissed down farther and farther, stopping at the button of his trousers.

"Oh fuck, you don't have to," Harry gasped, brushing a loose strand of hair from Draco's face.

Draco smirked, and there was a little bit of DraGGen in the expression. "I want to. I've wanted to for ages."

Harry watched breathlessly as Draco unfastened his trousers and pulled out his cock, his slender fingers lightly caressing his sensitive flesh. "How...how do you get rid of the glitter?" Harry gasped, watching Draco lick his lips.

"Spellotape," Draco replied, his eyes dark. "Works every time."

Then Harry found himself engulfed in Draco's hot mouth, and he knew he wasn't going to last long. Draco's hair was soft and so was his mouth, and he could hear the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out and it was all he could do not to catch fire. There was no warning when his climax came, but Draco seemed to be prepared - he swallowed everything Harry had to offer and licked his lips.

"Holy shit," Harry muttered into Draco's salty-sweet mouth, and rubbed the damp patch on the front of Draco's trousers until he whimpered and the patch grew larger.

Harry never wanted to stop kissing Draco. He didn't need anything else, he was sure of it. It wasn't until a blaring and terrible version of 'Hungry Eyes' began echoing through the club that Harry came back to reality, and he pulled away.

"These trousers are ruined," Draco said in an awed sort of voice, and he tried his best to spell them clean.

Harry tucked himself back in his trousers and held on to his desk tightly. "Sorry."

"Not a bad thing. The good outweighs the bad in this instance." Draco gave up on his trousers and straightened his shirt. His lips were pink and swollen, and it only served to make Harry want to kiss him again. "You should probably go help Finnigan."

Harry nodded. "I should."

Draco smirked again. "I could help you help Finnigan."

Harry shook his head. "You don't have to."

"I'm volunteering. Cleared my schedule for tonight. Karaoke Night sounded like the place to be. Maybe we could do a duet."

"Highly unlikely," Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco winked, and Harry saw another stray fleck of glitter on his face. "I was thinking 'Holding out for a Hero'. Good?"

Harry rolled his eyes.


End file.
